xXx 2, Enter the Darkness
by Demon of Shadows
Summary: xXx is back, and in order to stop a fanatical crime lord, he must lead a team of newly formed NSA agents into the heart of the danger.


(Disclaimer: I don't own XXX, but I own Brian Jackson, Jason Tran, and Alex Cage.)  
  
  
  
  
  
[NSA HQ]  
  
  
  
  
  
"Nice job against Anarchy 99, X. Even though they were practically your equals, you put them away." Gibson said with a smile to Xander Cage as he entered the small conference room. The agent-turned-street-athlete was clad in black jeans, boots, a red tank top, and a black leather bomber jacket. He glared at Gibson as he took a seat, propping his scuffed boots up onto varnished wooden table. "Get your feet off the table." Gibson said. Defiantly, Xander kept his boots onto the table, lacing his fingers together behind his head. Gibson realized he was fighting a losing battle, so he gave up and tapped a few buttons on the wireless keyboard that sat before him on the tabletop. Instantly, the big flatscreen monitor that took up one whole wall of the conference room lit up. It showed footage showing a caravan of military vehicles. Suddenly a massive explosion blossomed from the lead vehicle, moments later the rear vehicle exploded. A black Hummer pulled up on either side of the halted caravan, and men carrying automatic weapons and dressed in black fatigues raced out of the Hummers, blasting away at the men in the military caravan. They made a beeline for the largest truck, piling into it with astounding speed. As the Hummers pulled away, the truck swerved awkwardly out of the caravan, it clipped one of the burning vehicles as it swerved away, driving beyond the cameras range. "That was in Berlin, Germany. Reports say that a shipment of weapons was in that truck. Seems typical, no?" Gibson said. He typed in more commands and another clip popped onto the screen. "Different type of caravan, different place, same method. This one was in London, England. Stolen was some experimental heavy weapons that was being tested for use against tanks and bombers." Gibbons explained. He showed more clips of different caravans, all of the items stolen had military ties. "So some group is stocking up on weapons, so what?" Xander said. "Yes, but this isn't just any group. We believe it's the work of the S.P.E.C.T.E.R.S." Gibbons said. "Who?" The S.P.E.C.T.E.R.S., Special Terrain Soldiers. They were a Special Operations group that specialized with operations in remote and dense terrain." Gibbons explained, as if telling a slow child. "Ok, the name is ridiculous but you're making it sound like they play some serious hardball." Xander said. "Yes, its too big for you to handle alone. You'll lead a team of three other agents. Thing is, we don't have three agents who measure up to your particular. abilities. therefore, we want you to handpick the three you believe to be best people for the job." Gibbons said. "I'll need some privacy, access to the NSA database, and a shitload of Corona." Xander asked. "Done, except for the booze." Gibbons left the room. Xander leaned back thoughtfully, before he started typing rapidly on the keyboard. Two hours later, when Gibbons came back, Xander had a list drafted up and ready. After Gibbons examined the list, he looked up and said, "Done."  
  
  
  
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[NYC, New York, 9:27 p.m.]  
  
  
  
  
  
Jason Tran slowly emerged from the service stairwell onto the uppermost walkway of one of the bridge's huge metal-and-stone supports that spanned the entire width of the bridge, he calmly looked down from his position that was precariously close to the edge of the over 3,000 foot drop. Below and around him, his partners were filming him with no more than six video cameras equipped with high-zoom lenses. Three were filming from the bridge and two were filming from either shore of the river below, and one up there right beside Jason. Jason was clad in a black jumpsuit and a parachute was strapped to his back. He walked to one end of the walkway and removed the black nylon cover from a blue and silver Kawasaki motorcycle. He straddled the bike and started warming up the engine. He turned to look straight into the lens of the camera, saluted cockily, and gunned the engine. He raced the length of the walkway before he raced up the ramp and flew over the railing. He silently counted to ten before pulling the ripcord. The larger-than-normal parasail blossomed out, stopping Jason's rapid descent and allowing him to glide, motorcycle and all, with him holding onto the Kawasaki tightly. He set down on the access road that ran right down to the river. He tugged a strap on his harness and the chute fluttered away. He pumped both fists into the air in triumph as he raced up the curving road. As he reached the top, he was nearly hit by an unlabeled black panel truck. He skidded to a stop, screaming profanity at the truck driver. The truck skidded to a stop several meters away and started backing up. "Oh shit." Jason said softly before he started to gun the engine. "Hey Jason, hold up!" A voice shouted from behind him. Jason whirled to see a familiar figure walking up the access road. "Oh you got to be shittin' me, Xander Cage, last I heard you got collared by the cops!" Jason said. He had done some special work for Xander in the past, whenever somebody was trying to muscle him Jason was the one who always backed him up. Suddenly, like a scarred ghost Gibbons appeared by Xander's side and he aimed a dartgun at Jason's chest. "Sorry buddy." Xander said as the dart pierced the skin of Jason's right leg. "Mother.fucker." Jason uttered as he lapsed into unconsciousness.  
  
  
  
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[Los Angeles, California, 11 p.m.]  
  
  
  
  
  
"Jackson! Jackson!" Came the amassed fans cry on the outskirts of the ring. Their collective voices bounced off the walls of the sub-basement of the local pub. A fat American guy wearing all sorts of gold and platinum jewelry stepped into the center of the ring with a cordless mike in hand. "Ladies and Gentleman, tonight we have a special treat for you. The undisputed local champion, I give you.Brian Jackson!" He gestured dramatically to the left. The massive, powerfully built African man that was Brian Jackson strode into the ring. He wore black basketball shorts with silver trim and a matching sleeveless t-shirt. He only wore thinly padded sparring gloves on his hands. "And as for his challenger, he is the one, the only, Xander Cage!" The announcer yelled. Xander strode calmly through the crowd, who knew enough to let him through without pause. Brian's eyes practically bugged out of his head, he had worked with Xander when Xander was just starting out as an extreme athlete. "Hey Brian." Xander said. "Xander, what the hell you doing in LA?" Brian shouted over the roar of the crowd as the two started circling each other. "I need your computer expertise in a.situation." Xander shouted back as they began to trade punches. Brian was good; he started with a strong attack and then didn't let up. [He's better than he was four years ago.] Xander thought. Of course, Xander had also improved as well. He weaved and dodged rapidly, firing some punches of his own. Suddenly Brian feinted low and as Xander went to block, Brian's left fist came around out of nowhere and slammed Xander in the jaw. A few more blows, and Xander was on his back. "We have a winner!" The announcer yelled. Roughly 10 minutes later, Brian and Xander were walking down the sidewalk. Brian had changed into black jeans, sneakers, black muscle shirt, and a silver-gray messenger bag, whereas Xander was dressed in a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and black boots. "You mentioned you needed my computer skills." Brian said. "Yeah, do you want the brutally honest version, or the version where I lie like an ass and you find out much much later?" Xander said with a smile. "You're already an ass, so.brutally honest version." Brian said as they sat down on a bench. "Ok, I'm the newest agent for the NSA Special Operations and I need your help, I'm asking you to join the NSA at least on a trial basis." Xander said. Brian, instead of being pissed off like Xander expected, laughed with total abandon. "Tell me something I don't know." Brian said with a small smile. "How did you-" Xander asked. Brian smiled and removed his laptop from the messenger bag, setting it down on his knees. He inserted a floppy into the disk drive and typed in a command string. Instantly, Xander's NSA file was displayed on the screen. "Tell your superiors to invest more in computer security." Brian said with a laugh. "Dude, you HACKED into an NSA Mainframe, that's a Federal Offense." Xander said in a mock-serious tone. "Whoop-de-shit. Oh, and tell your friend he can come over." Brian nodded backwards in the direction of Gibbons, who had been trying to discreetly watch them from a distance. Xander motioned to him with two fingers to come over, then made a side-to-side motion to indicate there was no need for the dartgun. Gibbons nodded once as he strode over. "Gibbons, meet Brian Jackson." Xander said. "Charmed." Brian said. "Our ride is here." Gibbons said. As he spoke, a black limousine pulled smoothly up to the curb. "One last stop." Gibbons said.  
  
  
  
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[Chicago, Illinois, 11:14 a.m.]  
  
  
  
  
  
A Nickelback song blared out of the speakers, rattling the rafters high above the garage floor. Alex Cage was dressed in jeans and a blue t-shirt beneath a light blue painter's jumpsuit. He was beneath his latest project, a pearly white Thunderbird. He was in the process of changing the oil, and was already half-covered in it. As the one song ended and another began, Alex paused to listen. He could hear the fire door, which was locked from outside access, creak open and slam shut. The steady rhythm of footsteps moved closer, stopping right by his feet. "Mr. Cage, we'd like to have a word with you." A voice came from down by his feet. "Ok, one sec." Alex reached into his toolbox and removed the tray. He removed a cloth-wrapped bundle from beneath it and he unwrapped a DY.357 Magnum. He took it in his right hand and started to slide towards the men, then suddenly reversed direction and rocketed out the other side, bolting to his feet, gun aimed straight at Gibbons heart. "Hey, watch where you're pointing that thing!" Gibbons said jokingly, until Alex cocked the gun. Suddenly, he was aware of the man standing behind and to Gibbons right. "Hey baby bro." Xander said. Even though he was 19 years old, Alex hurdled the car in a single jump, hugging his brother tightly. "Five years since we last saw each other." Xander said, thumping his brother on the back. Finally, after another 30 seconds, they released each other. "So, whose the Scarface?" Alex said quizzically, slipping the Magnum into his pocket. "Augustus Gibbons, NSA." Gibbons briefly flashed his ID. Alex's eyes narrowed considerably, and he reached for the gun. "If you were to grab your gun and draw it in anger, you'd be dead before it was out of your pocket." Gibbons said matter-of- factly. Instantly the air was filled with three laser sights, which played around on Alex's chest before one strayed downward to his groin while another went up to his forehead. "Why are you here?" Alex said, finally starting to see the bigger picture. "Because, you're the best damn baby bro I've got. Also, you get a chance to probably shoot some people and work alongside your big brother." Xander said with a smile. Alex thought about it, for about a few seconds! "I'm in, when do we leave?" Alex said. "Right now." Gibbons said. They exited through the fire door and climbed into the limousine.  
  
  
  
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[NSA HQ]  
  
  
  
  
  
Alex, Brian, and Jason sat in various positions of disinterest in the NSA HQ. They had been sitting and waiting for at least an hour. Abruptly, the whole scene of things changed as Gibbons and Xander re-entered the room. Behind them, a man was towing along what seemed to be a massive tool chest. "Guys, meet Agent Shavers, the local tech-weenie. He's the best at what he does." Xander said. "Gentleman, let me show you something." Shavers said with a nerdish grin on his face.  
  
  
  
(To Be Continued) 


End file.
